Unknown Identities
by Peg Gep1
Summary: Something is wrong with Racetrack, and when Mush leaves to try to figure out what's happened, he disappears. There's also a dead newsie. What's going on?
1. Chapter 1

Unknown Identities  
  
Chapter 1  
Racetrack breathed in the morning fragrance, stuffing his coarse hands into his pockets to save them from the bitter cold, his 'papes' tucked under his arm. He walked absent-mindedly through the cold winds, concentrating hard on one thought, though it made no sense to him, not even hearing the call of help from a fellow newsie as their papes fell to the alley ground, now splattered with that newsie's crimson blood.  
"Help!" The pain-ridden words echoed everywhere, excluding Race's mind. "Please, I'se neva' did not'in' ta ya'! Please!" The newsie let out a wavering breath. "Help! Help! He-" The male's pleading voice ended abruptly, followed by a deadly silence.  
Race took no notice to any of the horrible happenings. He hardly even seemed aware that blood was slowly seeping from his swollen nose to the snow-covered ground, leaving a trail of scarlet drops behind him. His feet dragged in the hard-packed snow, imprints of his saddle brown shoes being left in the snow.  
"Race! Where ya' been?" Race's friend Spot's words went by his ears deafly. "Race?" Spot questioned, not used to being ignored. He was too feared by many - they wouldn't dare. But Race was his friend - he wasn't afraid to stand up to him, that was how their friendship was formed.  
Spot's chocolate eyes were all that moved as they watched Race walk past him, until Spot ran up the stairs of the Newsboys Lodging House, bursting into the bunkroom. "Jack! 'ey, Jack!"  
Jack waved Spot away. "Not now, Spot, I'se gonna win Itey at poka'. Since Race's not 'ere, I'se actually gonna win!"  
Stubborn, Spot reached in front of Jack, pulling the cards away from him, "Itey, he's bluffing, he's only got one pair. You win."  
While Itey walked away with a grin on his face, Jack's dark eyes glowered at the pokerfaced Spot. "What'dya' do dat for, 'eh?"  
"It's 'bout Race. 'E's actin' real strange. C'mon wit' me outside to catch up wit' 'em and find out what's up. Let's go!" He exclaimed.  
Jack sighed, standing leisurely, but yelped as Spot's hand closed around Jack's shirt collar, pulling Jack abruptly out of the bunkroom, down the stairs, and into the cold. "Spot!" Jack exclaimed, teeth chattering. "It's freezin'! Why are we out here?"  
Spot moved his hand to the back of Jack's neck to make him look in the direction he was, towards the droplets of blood on the ground. Jack smirked. "I hope dat's da Delancys' blood."  
"It ain't." Spot muttered grimly. He pointed to where the blood trailed around a corner to an alley where the newsies usually found one another, beat up.  
Cocking an eyebrow, Jack forgot about the cold and ran around the corner, where Race was, laying face down in the knee-deep snow. "Told ya' it weren't da Delancy Bruddah's." Spot spoke softly as Jack turned Race over.  
"Race?" Jack called. Though Race's dark eyes were wide open, he responded to nothing. "Spot, 'elp me carry 'im inta da lodgin' 'ouse."  
Nodding, Spot held the door open, then raced up the stairs to the bunkroom. He slammed the door open. Everything went ghostly silent when Jack entered carrying Race. "Jack! What 'appened ta Race?" Mush scrambled to his feet, followed closely by Kid Blink.  
"I dunno." Jack admitted, dropping Race gently down on a bunk bed.  
Seconds went by, minutes soared, and hours passed.  
"Why fight?" Race whispered, barely awake from his lengthy unconscious state.  
Mush ran to his side, a glass of watcher clutched tightly in his hands; the same glass of water that he retrieved after Jack and Spot had each told what they knew. "Race?" He questioned desperately.  
"Mush, I'se not sayin' ta give up, 'xactly, but... Mush, give up fer right now!" Jack told him. "He's been muttering almost those same woids fer hours, now! Rest! When's it's dark out, whaddya usually do?"  
Mush didn't answer.  
"Ya' rest, dat's what ya' do!"  
Shaking his head, Mush threw the glass of water towards Jack, the water spurting in his face and the glass falling to the floor. "No." Mush gave a terse answer, then climbed out of the window to the fire escape so Kloppman wouldn't catch him leaving after hours.  
The cold winter air chilled Mush to the bone. The others didn't understand. Race had been acting strange lately, and wouldn't even hint to Mush as to why. Now, Race was found, passed out in the snow? Followed by a trail of blood? Mush didn't like this, not at all. Something was wrong, and Mush felt that it was up to him to figure out what it was.  
His feet seemed to stop automatically as he came to an alleyway. Why he stopped, he had no idea. But he intended to find out.  
Mush walked warily into the dark alleyway, his eyes traveling downwards to show him at least ten unsold newspapers, scattered around. He kneeled and picked one up with his chapped and chilled hands. A gasp escaped his lips as he looked at another, and another - they were all covered in blood.   
When Mush picked up the last newspaper, he observed that it was not only splattered with blood, but there was a shape on it. An arrow pointing up, created with blood. Slowly, Mush moved his head upwards, his eyes widening. In shock, he dropped the paper in his hands, but as he fainted, he fell abruptly to the ground before the newspaper did.  
Above him, the newsie whose blood was spread on the newspapers hung from the top of the building, a rope around his neck, his eyes wide open, his bare feet dangling.  
  
~~  
"Anyone know where Mush is?" Kid Blink asked, worriedly.   
"Nope." Jack answered, watching Race. "I ain't seen 'im since 'e ran out on us last night."  
"Exactly my point." Blink pointed out, pacing as he thought out loud. "It ain't like Mush ta jest leave an' not come back fer so long. Somet'in's gotta be up." He stopped, determined. "We gotta go look for 'im."  
"Kid - I'll look, but if I'se dun find 'im afta' two hours, den I'se comin' back 'ere ta tell you'se my findin's, an' den I'se goin' back home ta Brooklyn." Spot said bluntly. "If I'se stay away too long, den Fox pronounces me dead an' tries ta take ova'."  
Blink nodded. "All right - I'se respect dat. Anyone else?" His light colored eye looked at Jack. "Stop hidin' unda' dat cowboy hat, Jack. Dis ain't jest fer Mush, but it might help Race, too."  
"I'll go." A dark haired boy nicknamed Bumlets volunteered. "It may 'elp dem, but also your sanity." He stood, retrieving a walking stick that was leaning against his bunk bed.  
"T'anks, Bum." Blink looked expectantly at Jack.  
After a few long moments of ferocious staring, Jack caved in. "Awright, I'll go! Geezit, you'se stubborn."  
Blink grinned. "Maybe, but it gotcha ta come, didn't it?"  
"Anyone gots a jacket?" Jack asked, peering outside where snow was falling from the sky.   
Throwing Jack a very worn down and thin jacket, Skittery teased, "Too cold fer ya', Kelly?"  
"Aww, shut up." Jack pulled his cowboy hat onto his brown mop of hair, shoved his arms into the torn sleeves of Skittery's jacket, and followed Spot, Blink, and Bumlets outside.  
"Okay," Spot took charge, ignoring the goosebumps that immediately arose on his arms as they walked into the bitter cold, "Whose goin' where? I'se got all da area from 'ere ta Brooklyn. If I'se find Mush, den I'se ain't comin' right back - it's too cold. I'll bring 'em ta Brooklyn, an' one 'a me boys'll come an' tell ya'."  
Blink nodded. "Except fer you, Spot, we'll all meet back here in two hours. If ya' dun have a pocket watch, den just keep yer ears out - you'll hear da big clock strike da hours." After seeing the other two agree, he went on. "I'll search 'round the factory an' 'round da church."  
"I'll look 'round da refuge ta make sure 'e didn't end up dere." Bumlets offered.  
Jack gave him a grateful smirk. "I'll look at da distribution office an' at Tibby's... Hell, I'll even look at Davy's place."  
Spot smirked. "Foist off, you'se goin' ta two warm places. Second 'a all, you'se jest wanna see Sarah."  
Even in the severe cold, all the blood rushed to Jack's cheeks. "Davy, too. We ain't seem 'em much since he started school 'gain."  
Disbelieving, Spot merely raised an eyebrow, turned around, and starting walking towards Brooklyn.  
Blink frowned at Jack. "Jest dun waste too much time 'round Sarah, Jack."  
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Jack mumbled under his breath, pushing Blink's words far from his mind as he started the short trip to the distribution office.  
Blink watched his elder friend, then he spoke, half to himself, half to Bumlets. "Well, dat'll prob'ly be da last we see 'a 'im 'til tomorra'."  
Bumlets chuckled, then waved his hand as he started his lengthy walk to the refuge, leaving Blink staring alone, just outside the Manhattan Lodging House for Newsboys. Sighing, he trudged through the deep snow in the direction of the church and factory.  
Jack didn't expect to find Mush himself. Mush wouldn't be at the distribution office, it was too late for that. Mush also didn't have much of an appetite. After briefly scanning over both the office and Tibby's, Jack headed over to the Jacob's home, a smile on his face at the thought of Sarah.   
  
"Please, Sista', if you see a newsie with a mush-like complexion and incredibly coily brown hair, could ya' bring 'im to da Manhattan Newboys Lodgin' House?"  
The nun listening to Kid Blink nodded. "And what is this poor young soul's name?"  
"Uhh..." Blink said slowly. He was one of the few that knew Mush's real name, and he wasn't about to tell anyone it. "Well, he responds ta Mush."  
The nun merely smiled nicely and, thankfully, asked no questions. "We here at the church will be praying for him."   
"Thanks." Blink smiled slightly. "I'll letcha know when we find 'im." As Blink turned to leave, in his mind, he was thinking, 'if we find him.'  
Meanwhile, Bumlets snuck into the refuge. "'Ey, Joka'!" He hissed.  
A boy of about sixteen looked through the bars on the door. "Hey Bum - what'cha doin' on that side 'a da bars?"  
"Lookin' fer someone. 'Ave ya' seen Mush lately?"  
"Mush? Nah. I haven't seen many a' yer lodgers lately. Only Snitch an' a couple a' odda's."  
"But no Mush?"  
"Nah. Is he missin'?"  
Bumlets nodded. "Yeah. An' Race is unconscious, no one knows what 'appened."  
"Geez, sounds like Blink would be next, considerin' da three a' dem are da Three Musketeers."  
"Yeah..." Bum nodded. "Well, t'anks, and let someone know if 'e gets t'rown in, okay?"  
Joker nodded. "Yeah, we'll let one a' yer sella's know."  
"Okay, seeya lata'." Bumlets said, turning to sneak back out of the refuge - he had no intention on getting caught. He was about to turn a corner when he heard Snyder's voice. Snyder was talking to someone, but Bumlets didn't recognize the second voice.  
"I saw two newsies today when I was in my carriage on my way here. One was unconscious - the other was dead - hanging from the top of a building. I couldn't stop in time to get to them, but I'm sure they're probably still there, sir."  
"Where were they, exactly?" Bumlets could practically hear Snyder drooling at the thought of one more newsie for the refuge and one less newsie to deal with.  
"They're in the alleyway between City Hall and Irving Hall, sir."  
"Let me get my jacket, and then we can start there." Snyder said.  
Bumlets' eyes widened. As soon as Snyder and the man walked into a nearby room, Bumlets raced around the corner, down the hall, and sneaked out of the building, then proceeding to run the great distance towards that alleyway. He cursed as he saw the carriage with Snyder and the unfamiliar man pass him just before he reached the alley. He tried his best to breathe quietly as he watched Snyder enter the alleyway.  
"There's no one here! Only some bloody newspapers!' Snyder stomped out of the alley and into the waiting carriage. "Damn!" He exclaimed.  
Hearing the chime of the town clock, Bumlets started walking towards the meeting place with his mind full of confused thoughts. Was Mush one of those newsies that the man saw? If it wasn't, where was he? If it was, where was he? Did Blink, Spot, or Jack find him? But the thought that haunted him most of all was, who'se the dead newsie, what happened, and where did that newsie go?  
Jack grinned as he knocked on the Jacob's door.  
"Jack?" David answered the door. "What're you doing here?"  
"Jest visitin'. Where's Les?" Jack asked, surprised to not hear any high-pitched squeaks coming to greet him.  
"He's at school."  
"So... why aren't you? Your dad's not hoit again, is 'e?"  
"Nah, I'm just sick, so I stayed home from school today."  
"Oh, sorry 'bout dat. But-"  
"You want to see Sarah?"  
Jack blushed. "Well, yeah, but foist - 'ave ya' seen Mush lately?"  
"Mush? No, why?"  
"'Cause we can't find 'im. Race is unconscious, an' Mush decided 'e wanted ta go find out what 'appened, so yesta'day 'e left an' 'asn't come back."  
"I'll keep an eye bout for him."  
"T'anks. Where's Sarah?"  
David shook his head and sighed. "Up on the roof. You know the way."  
Jack grinned. "I sure do." With that, Jack headed towards the stairs.  
"Sarah?" He called. "What'cha doin' up 'ere in da cold?"  
"Jack!" Sarah smiled at him. "I'm getting some snow to put on David's head. He's got a terrible fever, and we need to bring down his temperature some."  
Jack nodded. "Why don't'cha jest use ice?"  
"Our freezer's frozen shut." Sarah answered simply.  
"Ah, gotcha."  
Sarah got all the snow she needed and headed back downstairs, followed closely by Jack. "David, get back in bed. Walking around is not going to bring down your temperature any!" Sarah exclaimed.  
"I'm fine, Sarah." David frowned at his sister as she walked over and placed the back of her hand on his forehead.  
"You're burning hot. Lay down, please."  
David looked over at Jack. "I'd betta' go." Jack said quickly.  
Neither Sarah nor David protested. "Okay." Sarah nodded, smiling at Jack.  
"Yeah, and I'll keep an eye out for Mush for you. But keep me updated." David requested.  
"I will. Get betta', Davy. Seeya." Jack left the building just in time to hear the clock strike. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Kid Blink sighed as he saw Jack and Bumlets returning without Mush. "I guess no one found him?" At both of his friends' head shakes, Blink closed his eyes for a moment. "I hope Spot had more luck than we did."  
Unfortunately, Bumlets had temporarily forgotten what he had overheard in the refuge. Having had his mind on Racetrack and if he'd be all right, he merely nodded in response to Blink, and they headed back to the lodging house.  
As they entered their home, Blink answered the unasked question from the awaiting newsies in the room with a sigh. Skittery took his jacket back from Jack to put over his own shoulders, and he walked to his bunk to get some money from his light money sack.   
"Yer gonna sell?" Kid Blink asked blankly.  
"Even if Race is unconscious an' Mush is missin', we can't afford ta not sell, Blink." Snitch, back from the refuge, spoke up.   
"I know." Blink murmured, dejected. "All right, let's go." He slumped and slowly made his way downstairs.   
He was about to make his way outside when he heard a voice. "Kid Blink."  
Blink turned. "Yeah, Kloppman?" He asked the old man kindly.  
Kloppman handed Blink a jacket, worn, but warm.   
Letting out a smile, Kid Blink turned to go outside while putting his arms through the thin sleeves of the jacket.   
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Blink turned again to see a hopeful smile on Kloppman's face. "I'll keep one eye out for Mush and the other on Race. I'll let you know if anything happens."  
Blink smiled gratefully at the kindness of the aged man, then turned, braving himself for the cold awaiting outside.  
Usually, Kid Blink would have found that day's headline easy to improve, but that day he was lagging terribly. By the time that Blink would have finished selling, only a quarter of his papers had been sold. Standing on a deserted street, Blink kneeled down, placing his coarse hand in the fresh snow. Pushing himself back to his feet, Kid Blink turned to look up at the sky above him, and at the falling snow. If the world had so much beauty in everything, then why did people ruin it with violence?   
Shaking his head, Blink convinced himself that when he returned to the lodging house, Kloppman would be the bearer of some kind of good news.  
  
"Kloppman?" Blink called as he entered the lodging house an hour later.   
Kloppman looked at Blink sadly. "I'm sorry, Blink." His slow, husky voice apologized gently.   
Blink sighed, looking down at the worn floor. "It's all right, Kloppman. T'anks, anyway." He replied, disheartened.   
Once upstairs and sitting on his bed, Kloppman's words rang in Kid Blink's ears. Before he had entered the bunkroom, completely crestfallen, Kloppman's modulated words had caused Blink to turn around to look at his elderly friend, who responded with a hopeful smile.   
"Don't lose heart." Blink repeated, meditative. His eyes moved to the left, watching his unconscious friend, whose swollen nose was slowly healing. Where was Mush? Was he unconscious, or... was he dead? Where was he, now? Laying somewhere? Was he in pain? What could Blink do now, with what was happening all around him?  
A twittery voice came to hearing. "Hiya Blink! How ya' doin'?" A boy limped over, sitting on the bed across from Blink's.   
Blink let out a listless smile. "Hiya, Crutchy."  
The complaisant teenager watched Blink, ruminative. "Ya' know, Blink... With all dat's been happenin' lately, I been t'inkin' - a lot."  
Crutchy looked at his friend, waiting for a sign that he was listening. Blink looked up. "Yeah?"  
"Yeah." Crutchy nodded. "When t'ings are goin' good fer me, I t'ink a lot 'bout otha's, and about da bad t'ings that are happenin' fer them, and what I cin do ta help. But, I realized, that when t'ings ain't great fer me, then I jest t'ink 'bout those t'ings, and not 'bout otha's. Bad t'ings are happenin' all ova', and, no matter how bad somet'in' seems fer you, it ain't da woist. It don't help not'in' ta feel bad 'bout somet'in' - ya' gotta act on it. Den you cin start helpin' otha's again."   
Blink listened carefully to the thoughtful words of his friend. "Ya' know, Crutchy," he spoke, no longer sounding sepulchral, "that makes a lotta sense. T'anks." He said, standing.  
Crutchy smiled, pleased. "Where ya' goin', Blink?"  
Blink grinned, determination shining in his eye. "To go act on my problem." With that as his conclusion, Blink left the bunkroom to enter the chilling air.  
"Blink!"  
He turned at the voice to see Bumlets running towards him with widened eyes. "I forgot to tell you something that I heard at the refuge."   
~~  
Blink and Bumlets entered the alleyway next to Irving Hall, their breath showing as white puffs of air. Blink looked down at the snow-covered newspapers, little bits of vivid cardinal red showing through the light blanket of snow. His head moved upwards, squinting to see past the falling snowflakes.   
"Bumlets? Give me boost up, all right?" He asked, reaching for the fire escape ladder - just out of his reach. With Bumlets' help, Blink pulled himself onto the fire escape. Soft clanging noises echoed throughout the alleyway as he moved higher on the fire escape. He reached out, and grabbed the end of the dangling rope. Inspecting it, Blink gulped, his imagination showing him one of his friends hanging from the rope, face blurred. Stepping back, Blink shut his eyes to block out the vision.  
Blink unsteadily lowered himself to the snow-covered ground. "The rope's been cut." He told Bumlets. "I don't know by what, but it made a sloppy cut."  
Bumlets nodded. "Sorry dat I fergot about Snyder's conversation before-I wasn't t'inkin'." He spoke apologetically.   
Blink was angry about Bumlets' forgetting, but he looked at Bumlets' face before speaking. Bumlets was looking towards the ground, feeling truly guilty and ashamed by his forgetfulness. Slowly, Blink's anger faded to a minimum, and he thought of Crutchy's words. "It's all right. We gotta focus on odda' t'ings... Ya' ended up rememberin', anyway, didn't 'cha?"   
Bumlets smiled. "Wanna go see Medda?"  
Blink bit his lip. "I dunno..."  
"Jest for a few minutes..." When Blink hesitated, Bumlets grinned. "C'mon, ya' know dat Race would be appalled dat we didn't go ta' see 'er."  
Kid Blink agreed after a few moments. "All right. Jest fer a few minutes, fer Race."  
"And warmth." Bumlets added. The two chuckled, and entered Irving Hall.   
"Hello boys!" Medda greeted, sitting backstage.  
"Hiya, Medda." The teens replied with smiles.   
"How are you?" She questioned, arranging her flaming hair up in a purple bow.   
"Well... Race is unconscious." Blink said directly, knowing that Medda had always been close to Race, and would want to know.  
Medda sighed, shaking her head sadly. "What happened?"  
"We really don't know." Blink admitted. "Things are weird lately."  
"Well, you know -" Medda was cut off by the backstage manager.   
"Medda! Onstage, now!" He yelled.   
"Oh, sorry boys!" Medda cried, waving her feather boa at them, hurrying off to stage.   
Blink sighed. He looked at his pocket watch. "C'mon, Bum. It's getting late. Let's go back to the lodgin' house."   
Bumlets nodded, and the two walked home in silence.   
  
"So, what're you sayin', Blink? Dat a newsie was killed, an' now 'e's missin'?" Jack yelled angrily, his grating voice resonating through the bunk room. "I don't believe it." He muttered, throwing his cowboy hat to the ground abruptly.   
"Yes, dat's what I'se sayin', an' dere's no reason fer ya' ta be so mad 'bout it."  
Jack glared at Kid Blink. "Yes, dere is. If one of my newsies is down, I need to know about it right away. We don't even know who it is!"  
Crutchy heard this and spoke up. "Jack, sure, ya' were our leada' durin' da strike, but no one is yer newsie.'"  
Jack rolled his scowling eyes. "Yeah, what'd you know 'bout it, Crutchy?" He snapped.  
"It seems that I may know more den you do." Crutchy responded, perfectly calm.   
Steaming, Jack opened the bunk room door, leaving. "I'm goin' ta see Davy."   
Itey rolled his eyes, sighing. "Yeah, right. He's goin' ta see Sarah."  
Blink nodded. "I know." Letting out a deep sigh, he looked over at Race. "I'm gonna go out fer a walk."  
"It's gettin' late, ya' sure ya' want ta, Kid?" Itey questioned.  
"Why don't'cha jest wait 'til tomorrow - ya' won't find anyt'in' in da dark." Crutchy reasoned wisely.   
After pondering it over for a moment, Blink nodded, heading for his bunk. "Yer right, t'anks." He said, laying down, mentally exhausted.  
Long after the lights had been shut off, the others had fallen to sleep, and Jack had stormed back in (even in the dark, Blink was able to see the goofy look on Jack's face that Sarah had brought on), Blink finally fell to a restless sleep.   
Their punches cut into him in the cold night air, mere grunts escaping from his lips as he tried to gain the breath to yell for help. Unfortunately, each time he opened his mouth to scream, one of their fists connected with his stomach, and the wind was knocked out of him again as he was pushed against the alley wall behind him. Blood began to seep through his hair, making it evident that his scalp was bleeding. Hearing some sort of commotion outside of the alleyway, they began to run away. On the ground in a great huddle, he moved his left hand to try and reach for his cap - the one closest to him saw this, scowled, and stomped on his hand as hard as possible. He groaned, and slowly drew his hand back in to his body, laying there as they ran away. Laying there - not moving.   
Minutes, or even hours later, he turned his head to the left. There was Race, laying on a bed, unconscious. Turning his head to the right, he saw Mush laying unconscious on some bloodied newspapers. Looking up, someone was hanging, lifeless, from a rope. He gasped, and squinted to see the face, but it was hazed, and hard to see. Moving his head back to look behind him, he saw someone walking towards him, grinning, a frayed rope in their hands. "No..." He murmured, shaking his head, just as the noose was slipped around his neck. One end of the long rope was thrown over the top of the nearby fire escape, and the end that wasn't situated around his neck was pulled on, pulling him up into the air, the noose tightening around his neck. His air was blocked off, and he began choking.   
Blink sat up in a cold sweat, his hands at his throat, struggling to stop the noose from tightening - but there was no rope. Kid Blink fell back onto his pillow, breathing heavily. Taking in a deep, ragged breath, Blink sighed, daring to close his eye. Was he really next? He knew the suspicions, because his two best friends had been attacked, he was supposed to follow. Confused, Blink wondered if the attacker really had been going for the Three Musketeers specifically, or if they were just attacking at random. If just the Three Musketeers, then why was the dead newsie attacked? Or, Blink hated to think it, but, if Mush was the dead newsie, then why was the unconscious newsie attacked? Was the other newsie connected to them somehow?   
Biting his lip, Blink opened his eye and watched the darkness until the sun poked out from behind the nearby buildings, when sleep finally captured him.   
"Blink! - 'ey, Blink!" Kid Blink awoke to Skittery's grumpy vioce. "You gotta' get up!"  
"What? Why?" Blink shot up, exhausted. "Is Race awake? Was Mush found?"  
Skittery rolled his eyes. "No - you've gotta sell, that's what!" He glared, stalking off to the washroom.  
Blink sighed before getting up. As soon as he'd looked towards the window, he'd regretted it. The sun was shining brightly. Blink squinted and shook his head, walking to the washroom.  
"Hiya boys! How is everyone dis mornin'?" Spot's voice erupted as he entered the bunk room, a smirk on his face. Groans filled the air at his cheerfulness. "C'mon! It's time ta get up!" He exclaimed, walking over to a nearby bunk. Situating his mouth next to the ear of the bunk's dozing owner, he let out a yell. "Oy! JACKY-BOY!"  
Jack shot up, hitting Spot's nose with his forehead.   
"Ow!" Spot yelled, no longer cheerful. "What'dya do dat for?"  
"Me?" Jack asked, enraged. "Why'd you yell in my ear?"  
"You needed ta' get up! What'dya do, spend most 'a da night wit' Sarah?" At Jack's sheepish smile, Spot glared. "Ya' did? Geez, Jack!"  
"What?" Jack questioned angrily, lowering himself to the ground, towering above Spot, who wasn't phased by the height difference.   
"Do ya' care about yer friends at all?" Spot questioned calmly.  
Jack, who had been expecting some sort of outburst, was surprised by Spot's mild response. "What?" He repeated huffily, having nowhere to place his built-up rage.  
"Mush is missin', an' what are you doin'? Goin' ta visit Sarah? What's wrong wit'cha?"  
Jack stood speechless for a moment, before responding. "I searched!"  
"Once." Bumlets spoke up from behind Jack.  
"So what? I'm gettin' on wit' my life!"  
"What do ya' mean?" Spot asked suspiciously.  
"Come on! Everyone can't jest pretend dat Mush ain't dead!"  
"What?" Spot wondered, confused.   
Bumlets started telling his story. "I was at the refuge, hoping ta find Mush dere, but he wasn't. As I left, I'se ova'heard some guy talkin' ta Snyder. He had seen two newsies, one dead an' one unconscious. Dey went ta' find 'em, but dey were gone."  
"And you know that Mush is dead?" Spot inquired.   
Jack shrugged while Blink shook his head. "We only know that dere's a dead newsie, an' dat Mush is missin'. Jack don't know nothin'."  
"Oh, really?" Jack glared, turning to scowl at Blink.  
"Yeah. I don't know what's wrong wit'cha, but you don't seem ta care 'bout eidda' Race or Mush, an' I don't get it."  
"Maybe I don't get it eitha', eva' think a dat?" Jack yelled.  
"Why aren't you carin' about them, Jack?" Blink asked. 


End file.
